


You And I, Nothing Can Come Between

by zams



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: do_me_veela, EWE Implied, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Valentine's Day, Veela Draco, post—hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-10
Updated: 2014-04-10
Packaged: 2018-01-18 21:26:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1443514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zams/pseuds/zams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Living with Draco is bloody distracting and maddening to a degree Harry didn't think was possible. If he had known, perhaps Harry would have reconsidered asking Draco to move into his flat after Harry found himself suddenly bonded to him. And it's only a matter of time before Harry finally snaps and pushes Draco against the nearest flat surface and snogs him until he can't breathe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You And I, Nothing Can Come Between

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to **Alissa** for beta'ing! And to **Lizibabes** for a quick assurance that I don't have any glaring Americanisms. Any remaining mistakes are my own.
> 
> Title adapted from One Direction's _You & I_.

**

Draco is driving him mad, and Harry isn't sure how much more he can take. Harry's only a man, and it's only a matter of time before Harry finally snaps and pushes Draco against the nearest flat surface and snogs him until he can't breathe. It's going to happen – it's inevitable – but Harry wishes he had even the faintest idea of how Draco will respond. Harry doesn't want to assume, mostly because he doesn't want to contemplate rejection, but he rather thinks Draco is attracted to him, too. In the short time since they became reacquainted after Harry quite literally knocked Draco on his arse in Flourish & Blotts, they've been spending a lot of time together. Sometimes he will catch Draco looking at him with such an intense expression that Harry is hard pressed not to blush under the attention, and then other times Draco will compliment him in some way, sincere and genuine in a way Harry is not used to. 

It's sad, really, how pathetic Harry is that he's gotten so worked up over Draco so quickly. 

But Harry supposes that he _has_ always reacted strongly to Draco and this shouldn't be an exception, particularly considering that Draco's living with him and _touching_ him all the time. It's necessary, though, because Draco is a Veela and Harry is his mate, which Harry discovered three weeks ago when he came home from a holiday. Harry had no idea that Draco was a Veela, and when Harry met Draco for tea upon his return, the burst of heat that exploded between them took Harry entirely by surprise, as did the warm, gold sparks materializing where their hands were touching.

Draco was so blasé about the whole thing during his explanation that Harry couldn't do much of anything but nod and agree. 'Absolutely no sex,' Draco assured him, which made Harry want to fall into a hole, because that was just a part of the 'over-dramatic, romanticized rot that the Wizarding World invented about Veela and their mates.' In fact, the only thing Draco needed from Harry as his mate was to be physically near him and touch him occasionally. It certainly was a far cry from the epic, all-encompassing imagery Harry had heard here and there over the years, but Harry couldn’t be too upset by it because he liked that Draco was not so subjected to the whims of fate. 

And so Harry did the only thing he could think of, which was to invite Draco to move in with him, and Draco did so with much less fuss than Harry would have expected. But living with him is bloody distracting to a degree Harry didn't think was possible. If he had known, perhaps Harry would have reconsidered asking Draco to move into his flat. 

Even as Harry thinks it, he dismisses the idea. Harry couldn't stand Draco suffering unnecessarily, and if Harry, as Draco's mate, had denied him the simple thing he needed, it certainly would have led to Draco's suffering. 

Harry couldn't have let that happen. But at this rate, Draco is going tease him to death before Harry can work up the nerve to ask Draco for a date, and that's what is running through Harry's mind as he stands in front of the stove and flips the eggs over.

Of course he's attracted to Draco, has been since the very beginning, and he still has hopes of developing a deeper relationship, but the last thing Harry wants is Draco being forced to be with him because of something out of his control.

He hears footsteps behind him and then Draco says, "Good morning," his voice low and soft and really disrupting to Harry's equilibrium. 

Harry looks over his shoulder and promptly bites his tongue. Draco's just standing there in the doorway with a small smile on his face and hair hanging loose and beautiful, still in his black, silk pajamas, and looking completely edible.

"M-morning," Harry says, focusing back on the food before he does something he'll regret. It's not like this is not an uncommon occurrence, but it never fails to send Harry's heart to racing.

Draco comes up behind him, so close, and Harry sucks in a quiet breath. 

"Eggs and toast this morning, I assume," Draco says as he trails his fingers oh-so-lightly across the back of Harry's neck.

And it's quite embarrassing how much that simple touch affects Harry. Draco does it every morning and it's a wonder Harry hasn’t given himself away yet.

"And porridge with honey and Earl Grey. All your favorites." Harry forces the words out, hoping Draco doesn't notice anything amiss.

Draco makes a noncommittal sound and steps away, and Harry's able to finish up the eggs and get the toast ready without feeling so jumpy. 

"You do know it's Valentine's Day?" Draco asks when Harry sets a plate and bowl in front of him. "Are you trying to tell me something perhaps?"

Harry's eyes widen and he looks at Draco, who's smirking at him. "Is it? I didn't realize."

Harry's such a shite liar and there's no way Draco believes that. In fact, Harry does know it's Valentine's Day, and yes, he did get up extra early to make breakfast for Draco. But that doesn't mean Harry wants Draco to know that! 

Draco continues smirking at him, and Harry just decides to ignore him.

That is until Draco says, "Thank you, Harry," and Harry's head snaps up. He swallows roughly from how intently Draco's looking at him. He has to get out of here. 

He stands up hurriedly, ignoring Draco's confused expression. "I, uh, have to go to help at the shop this morning. I'll be back later."

Harry doesn't wait for Draco to respond before he rushes out of the kitchen and down the hall. While Harry does help George out at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes part-time, he doesn’t actually have to be there this morning. It doesn't matter. Hopefully Harry will get himself under control by the time he comes back.

**

Harry putters around the shop for a few hours, trying to ignore the knowing glances George keeps throwing him. Usually George doesn't show as much restraint, instead blatantly taking the piss about Harry's feelings for Draco, so Harry figures he must be more pitiable than he thought, which doesn't really do much to improve his mood.

Harry takes off around noon, but he gets distracted, ending up buying Draco a rather large heart-shaped box of chocolates and a silver stuffed dragon before he realizes what he's done. Exasperated with himself, he shrinks both, hiding them in his jacket pocket before he apparates home. He wonders if Draco will still be at the flat when he arrives, uncertain what possibility he would prefer, and also if he'll actually give Draco the chocolate and toy.

Stepping inside in the flat, he finds Draco curled up in the armchair in front of the window reading. He's dressed now, casually, and his hair is still loose, tucked behind his ears. The domesticity of the sight makes Harry's breath catch and his heart pound.

Draco looks up and Harry tries to smile. "Have plans tonight?" he asks, aiming for casual. With the way Draco teases him, Harry would think not, but he's not sure. 

Putting his book down, Draco smiles, and Harry's hopes fall. "I do, actually," he says. He pauses for a moment, and then says, "With you."

Harry blinks, taken aback. "With me?"

"You still haven't shown me how to use that Muggle picture box," Draco says, gesturing to the telly that's against the opposite wall. 

"O-oh." Harry attempts to hide his disappointment. Still, at least Draco isn't going out with some other bloke and leaving Harry with his very over-active and jealous imagination.

Draco sits down on the couch, folding his legs underneath him. "Well, come on, then," Draco says, a touch impatient. 

"We're starting now?" This is a bad idea, Harry can already tell. Practically snuggled up on the couch with Draco? On Valentine's Day? When Harry's about at his wit's end with Draco's teasing?

"Now, Potter," Draco says, and the use of his surname catches Harry's attention. 

Harry shucks his jacket off, hanging it by the door. "Did you pick out a film?" he asks, walking over to the telly and turning it on. 

"Yes. On the table."

Harry picks it up and has to laugh when he sees the title. " _X-Men_?" he asks, looking back at Draco and raising an eyebrow. "Why this one?"

"And why not?" Draco responds, sounding a bit haughty. "They at least have some sort of magical ability, or some such thing. I may be intrigued by this Muggle device, but I certainly do not want to watch an entire film about them."

"Of course." Harry just rolls his eyes and puts the DVD in the player. Trying to hide his nervousness, Harry gingerly sits down on the couch, close to Draco but not _too_ close and jerks slightly when Draco takes it upon himself to scoot closer so that their thighs are touching. 

Harry knows that his eyes must be wide and he's half-afraid Draco can hear the sudden pounding of his heart. It's been getting progressively harder to live with Draco these past weeks, but Harry didn't realize how far he's actually gone if his reaction to a relatively simple thing is any indication. 

"I'm a little tired," Draco says, and Harry's suddenly guilty. When Draco's away from him for too long, he starts getting tired, feeling a little weak, occasionally having a headache.

"I'm sorry." Ignoring the annoying flutter in his stomach, Harry drops his arm around Draco's shoulders, unable to bear the thought of Draco being in any pain.

Draco promptly drapes the blanket from the back of the couch – the one that Molly knitted him for Christmas the year the War ended – over their laps and drops his head on Harry's shoulder. Harry nearly swallows his tongue from the proximity and the clean, fresh scent of Draco's hair.

The movie starts playing, but Harry hardly notices a thing, much too distracted by Draco. Harry's seen the movie, of course, so at least if Draco puts him on the spot by asking a question or making a snarky comment, Harry should be able to reply after a quick glance at the telly. 

But then Draco puts his hand on Harry's thigh, dangerously close to his groin, and Harry just about forgets to breathe. How can Draco _not_ comprehend how much he affects Harry? Harry's never been able to hide his feelings well, and Harry finds it difficult to believe that Draco isn't aware of Harry's less than platonic feelings for him. But Harry also doesn't want to believe that Draco is cruel enough to purposely tease him, not after the effort it took for them to become friends.

Harry nearly jumps up when Draco's fingers start stroking along the seam of his trousers. Harry's throat is dry, blood rushing through his ears, but he forces himself to speak. He can't take this. "Uh, Draco?"

A distracted "Hmm?" is Draco's only response, and Harry bites down on his lip hard enough to drawl blood when Draco begins to nuzzle at his neck, his breath warm on Harry's skin and making goose bumps appear. 

"What- what are you d-doing?" Harry doesn't like how weak his voice sounds, but under the circumstances, he thinks it's warranted.

"Harry…" Draco breathes, this time right into Harry's ear and there is no stifling the moan that escapes. This is both everything and yet not nearly what Harry's wanted for weeks, and he's rapidly reaching his breaking point. 

Draco's hand comes up and he threads his fingers in Harry's hair as he tilts his head up. Draco's eyes are beautiful and Harry could stare into them forever. And Draco's lips are so close, so, so close, right there for Harry's taking, and he feels like he'll die if he doesn't kiss Draco _right now_.

And then, like Draco can sense the thoughts running through Harry's mind, Draco whispers, "Kiss me, Harry," and Harry's restraint vanishes. He surges forward, capturing Draco's mouth in a desperate kiss, and grabs Draco, needing him even closer. 

Harry could cry when Draco eagerly reciprocates the kiss and the embrace, his own arms locking around Harry's shoulders, this already more than Harry really thought could he his. And then Draco swings his leg over Harry's lap, effectively straddling him, and all coherent thought comes to a screeching halt from the amazing and sinful feeling of Draco on top of him.

"Fuck, Draco," Harry says, the words sounding wrecked and raspy already. "God, I can't. I've wanted… For so long, you don't even know."

The rambling words barely make sense to even Harry, but he hopes they convey all that he wants to say, all he's feeling, because he wants Draco to know. He does. And then maybe Draco will tell him he feels the same, that he's wanted Harry, too, and Harry will be able to say Draco is his as much as he's Draco, and he'll have someone to love who loves him back. Harry thinks it sounds a bit greedy, maybe a little selfish, but he wants, so much.

"Draco," Harry says again. He runs his hands all over every part of Draco he can reach, frantic to feel him, to memorize the sensations so he never forgets. "Please, I need…"

Draco kisses him again, cutting off his words. "Shh, I know. I know," he says, pressing wonderful kiss after wonderful kiss on Harry's mouth. "Just kiss me, Harry. Kiss me and touch me."

While Harry wants nothing more than to kiss and touch Draco, Harry's distantly aware that those aren’t quite the words Harry wants to hear, and they plant a seed of worry in the back of Harry's mind. Still, Harry's not capable of thinking about them too much, not when Draco's shifting and rubbing insistently against him and Harry can feel how aroused Draco is. 

For now, that's all that matters, and Harry will worry about everything else later. Much later. And with that thought in mind and the intention of making Draco delirious with pleasure until he screams out with it, Harry stands up, swallowing Draco's surprised gasp, and guides Draco's legs around his waist as he walks towards his bedroom.

Today Draco is his.

**

When Harry wakes up, the sun's setting, the room filled with soft orange light. Draco's still sleeping, curled up against Harry's side and laying on his stomach, his hair a tangled mess against his back. Harry's eyes roam every inch of Draco's beautiful face relaxed in sleep, his heart aching from acute longing. Harry wants Draco here in his bed always, and the thought that Draco may not want that hurts Harry deeply. 

Draco was so eager and responsive when they made love, clutching at Harry, gasping breathless encouragements in his ear, moving with him like they were the only two people on Earth… It was perfect, everything Harry could have wished for, and yet Draco didn't make him any promises or whisper any words of love. 

Sighing quietly, Harry eases out of bed, and pads into the living room. Maybe they had been working up to this, but it still took Harry by some surprise. He doesn't regret it – of course he doesn’t – but he's even more unsure now of Draco's feelings for him. In the midst of their lovemaking, it was easy for Harry to get swept away in the fantasy and believe everything would work out, but now all Harry's uncertainties and insecurities are coming back. If only he knew for sure.

Catching sight of his jacket hanging by the door, Harry remembers the shrunken gifts in the right pocket. Harry retrieves them, setting them on the table, and charms them back to their proper size. Staring at them, Harry wonders if it was folly to buy them and even if he'll have the courage to give them to Draco.

Harry's not sure how long he sits there, but he tenses when he hears soft footfalls behind him. 

"Harry?"

Draco's voice is quiet and maybe a tad confused, and Harry doesn't turn around.

"Harry? What are you doing out here? The bed is cold without you." Draco's arms slide around his shoulders, Draco's head resting against his own, and Harry soaks up the comforting heat Draco radiates. 

"You want me there?"

Harry feels Draco's frown against his forehead, and then he moves to stand in front of him. "Of course, Harry. What are you talking about?"

Draco's fingers are soft against his face as Draco encourages Harry to look at him. Silently gathering his courage, Harry looks into Draco's eyes, hoping he'll see in them the reciprocation of his own feelings. 

But all Harry can read is confusion and concern, nothing terribly out of place. "Why, Draco?" he asks plainly. "Do you want me? Do you feel anything for me? Or was this some Veela thing? I know you said sex wasn't part of our bond, but it seemed so sudden and you didn't say anything…"

"Harry."

Draco's voice is insistent and firm enough that Harry abruptly snaps his mouth shut. Draco cradles his face, and Harry cannot help but lean into the touch. 

"I wouldn't do that to you, use you in that way," Draco whispers. "I wanted you, Harry. So much. Couldn't you tell these weeks I am mad about you? And it's not because of our bond. I told you it doesn't work that way, and I did not lie to you."

Harry's heart pounds, but now it doesn't hurt with every beat. Instead, Harry is cautiously optimistic that this won't lead to his broken heart. "I hoped, but I wasn't sure. And then we made love, and I didn't want to think it didn't mean anything to you."

"Silly," Draco says fondly, leaning closer to press a lingering kiss to Harry's lips. "You know I wouldn't settle for less than perfect, Harry."

Harry bites his lip, a bit embarrassed by the implication. There's nothing perfect about him. Draco, on the other hand… "M'not. You are."

"We both are, which is why we're perfect together, Harry, and that's the way it should be."

With that said, Draco settles down quite comfortably on Harry's lap, pressing close. Draco curls his fingers around the back of Harry's neck, preventing Harry from looking away. "You're my mate, yes, but that's not why I want you. I want you because you're Harry, and because we _fit_. Have you realized that, Harry? We fit, and you're not getting rid of me. I'm quite partial to this flat, too."

Draco pauses, smiling, and Harry just stares at him in awe, all the wonderful things Draco's saying making Harry feel warm inside. He's smiling so widely he's sure he looks ridiculous, love struck and stupid, but he doesn’t care.

" _And_ ," Draco stresses, his fingers sliding into Harry's hair and tugging gently, "I'll have you know that I'm only being this sappy because it's Valentine's Day and you've got gifts for me."

Harry's eyes flick briefly down at the chocolate heart and stuffed dragon sitting openly on the table, and really, Harry's cheeks are starting to ache from the size of his smile. "Gifts. Of course."

"Yes," Draco says, but he's smiling too, and touching Harry so tenderly and watching him with soft eyes like there's nothing else he sees, and Harry's falling, falling, falling in love.

There's so much else Harry could say, so much that he wants to say, but for now, while they're here in their kitchen with Draco settled easily on his lap, Harry contented with the knowledge that Draco returns his feelings, and the remembrance of what they shared in Harry's bedroom, the only thing Harry can say is, "Happy Valentine's Day, Draco."

Draco smiles and leans close to brush a kiss across Harry's lips, a kiss that's undeniably sweet and perfect in its simplicity. "Happy Valentine's Day, Harry."

**  
**END**  
**

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here](http://do-me-veela.livejournal.com/105150.html) @ [do_me_veela](http://do-me-veela.livejournal.com/) in March 2014.
> 
> Written for Prompt #47 from **capitu** : Draco is a Veela and Harry is his mate. But they don't have to have sex. Only Draco needs to be near Harry or he'll --(something dramatic, see: die, waste away, lose his magic, feel poorly, get headaches, etc.). Harry, good guy all around, won't let his happen, even if Draco drives him mad.


End file.
